


Phantasm

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, During and post movie, Fluff, Getting Together, Illusionist Eggsy, M/M, Pining, Still Spies, Tattoos, very mild though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy had always had a knack for sleight of hand, tricking the eye, everyday illusions. He practised when he could, pulled up YouTube videos of kids making their graffiti writhe and pulse on the brickwork, scrolled through forums looking for tips on keeping the details sharp in false images, made the pictures in Daisy's few battered kids' books flicker briefly to life to watch her smile. But it was a bit beyond his capabilities to somehow hide a bright fucking yellow car from the police as he was driving it away from them. Backwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantasm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sassafrasx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrasx/gifts).



> I mostly went with your urban fantasy prompt because I thought it would be the most challenging for me, although I tried to get a few bits and pieces from your other likes/prompts in there because they were all so much fun.

Eggsy had always had a knack for sleight of hand, tricking the eye, everyday illusions. He practised when he could, pulled up YouTube videos of kids making their graffiti writhe and pulse on the brickwork, scrolled through forums looking for tips on keeping the details sharp in false images, made the pictures in Daisy's few battered kids' books flicker briefly to life to watch her smile. But it was a bit beyond his capabilities to somehow hide a bright fucking yellow car from the police as he was driving it away from them. _Backwards._ Although he did secretly quite like the paint job. And then, because the universe was a massive bitch, a big red fox - the familiar of the old lady who lived in the block of flats behind the Prince - trotted boldly out into the middle of the road. And then, because he wasn't a dick, Eggsy swerved to avoid the little bastard, and it was game over. He sent Ryan and Jamal packing, because fucked if he was going to let them get done for him swiping the car, and resolutely revved the engine.

To his surprise, it was his dad's medal that saved his arse. Or technically not his _dad's_ medal, but given to him on the day he'd died by the stranger in a suit, who'd whispered something over it too low for Eggsy to hear, and pressed the warm metal into his palm. It had stayed warm ever since, body temperature give or take, a constant comfortable weight around his neck. Eggsy had tried time and time again over the years to find out what the flat pink and twisted gold of the funny little symbol meant, but he couldn't find it anywhere online. He'd even made a few furtive trips to the library, ignoring the snotty look from the lady at the desk, and dug out some of the proper old books dedicated to symbolism and rifled through the musty pages on the off chance it'd pop up, but no luck. It didn't seem to exist. Even then, it wasn't the medal itself that did anything useful, but the number engraved on the back, which turned out to be nothing more mystical than a sodding phone number. Less than an hour later, he was a free man again, and the stranger in the suit was waiting for him outside the police station.

~

Didn't matter how many times Dean hit him, it wasn't something Eggsy would ever get used to. His cheek still smarted, the skin red and heated, stinging in the chilly night air as he made his way across town to the tailor's the stranger in the suit - Harry - had told him about. The cream he usually used to take the edge off the bruises his step dad left him with was still on the shelf in his room. Jamal's mum had made it - she was pretty shit hot with that kind of thing. She had little window boxes stuffed full with plants good for healing hanging out of every window of their flat, the kitchen heavy with sweet and sour smells of their dried leaves and crushed petals. Nicer than the beer and fag smell of his own flat at least. Was mostly down to her he'd been fit to show his face in public, some days.

He let himself in to the gleaming gold shopfront, door closing to the echo of the tinkling bell perched above it, and leaving him once again face to face with Harry Hart. Or not quite - the other bloke was sitting, clearly waiting on him, making Eggsy wonder just how long he'd been draped there for dramatic effect, legs neatly crossed and tumbler held lightly between long fingers. In front of a roaring sodding fire, for fucks sake. The fuck did a tailor shop need with an open fire? He steeled himself, let himself draw comfort from the familiar warmth of the medal at his chest.

"I've never met a tailor before, but I know you ain't one."

Harry didn't immediately reply, just raised an eyebrow in false innocence and acknowledgement of the hit, tipped the remainder of his drink down his throat. Eggsy watched him swallow with an unexpected tingle of interest, and wondered what the fuck he'd gotten himself in to. Drink finished and glass set aside, Harry returned his gaze as he smoothly unfolded himself from the chair and made towards the back of the shop. "Come with me."

Eggsy hurried to follow him, hesitating in another ridiculously grand doorway, and peered warily into what he guessed was a fitting room. Bit more upscale than the ones at Peacocks or Primark though. Everything was polished brass and dark gleaming wood, upholstered in patterned fabric that would look gaudy, outdated and a bit up itself in most settings, but in Kingsman tailors it somehow managed to look tasteful. There were tape measures and pots of pins, fabric samples, books on how to weave certain useful charms right in with the stitches, how use of colour could affect the wearer or those who looked on them. Eggsy was half tempted to have a quick poke through it all, but when he looked up Harry had stopped in front of a mirror that stretched all along the back wall, eyebrow raised and clearly waiting for him to follow.

"What do you see?" Harry said at last, when the two of them were standing side by side and facing the mirror, words weighted, as if it were some kind of test.

"Someone who wants to know what the fuck is going on." A bit out of order maybe, but he'd had a fucking long day, alright? At this point all he wanted was some answers, and to sleep for eighty four years. 

"Let me tell you what I see..."

Eggsy furtively ran his eye over Harry's reflection in the mirror as he listed a set of positive attributes Eggsy had a tough time accepting could apply to him. It was the first time he'd been able to get a decent look at the bloke, not counting their chat in the Prince when Eggsy'd been too busy asking everything he could think of about his dad and his medal to pay much attention to Harry himself beyond the obvious. Even before the bloke had taken out Dean's dogs with a sodding umbrella of all things - coupled with a pimped out watch, a handful of green powder he'd thrown in the eyes of the nearest goon, and a few mean punches - Eggsy had been starting to suspect he was some sort of high grade copper, there to bust the small but thriving ring of illegal potion dealing that went on the Black Prince after last orders. But Harry had once again taken his expectations and kicked them in the balls. He was starting to see a pattern. 

"Interested?"

"You think I've got anything to lose?"

He was also starting to see that Harry Hart was pretty fucking fit. A bit late to the party on that score, but he'd had a lot of other things on his mind over the course of the day, yeah? So when Harry pressed his hand to the mirror, apparently activating the fitting room to shift into a fucking _elevator,_ Eggsy let his eyes wander. Dangerous, clever hand pressed lightly to the glass, the sharp lines of Harry's face thrown into relief by the unobtrusive lighting of the fitting room, his nipped in waist under the sleek fit of his suit. Harry caught his eye in their reflection, lifted an eyebrow in amusement. Eggsy shrugged - they both knew he was fit, he was bloody well gunna check him out if he wanted, and he refused to be embarrassed about being caught at it. Their reflections disappeared, mirrors giving way to brick as Harry gave him a quick rundown of what Kingsman did. Countless questions unfurled in Eggsy's head as Harry spoke and fought their way to his mouth, about spies and suits and secret tunnels, and yet the one that got there first was - 

"How deep does this fucking thing go?"

Harry gave him a flat look and sighed, though it didn't quite hide the amused twitch of his mouth, and clasped his hands behind his back. "Deep enough."

~

Harry was in a coma. The machines he was hooked up to showed he was stable but precious little more, and everyone was starting to get impatient - despite Merlin flipping over his cards every five minutes to try and get a reading on it, they had no idea when he was going to wake up. Eggsy went to see him as often as he could manage, sneaking out of the dorms he shared with the other recruits, cutting dinner short so he had twenty minutes free to go and natter with him about his day, not that Harry could reply. It probably wasn't making a blind bit of difference to Harry, but it made Eggsy feel better, and he needed all the help he could get putting up with the shit the others handed out to him every day.

"Of course you'd get this one right, Eggy," Charlie said, brandishing the glass that contained the concentrations of myristica and eurycoma, plants known for their aphrodisiac qualities, "I imagine you'd have to slip anyone a drop of this before they'd even _think_ about touching you."

"Yeah?" Eggsy snarled, "I bet you know all about slipping things into people's drinks, you knob."

"Both of you shut it," said Roxy, the only one of the recruits who was actually a decent human being, she and Eggsy well on the way to being firm friends. Friendship aside, she was nonetheless thoroughly bored with his and Charlie's constant bickering. "I can't tell if this has valeriana or aconitum in it, and I'd really rather not get it wrong."

They were learning the specifics on how to spot poisons and various other harmful or compromising substances when hidden in drinks. The heady, and in Eggsy's opinion downright minging, red wine did a fine job of concealing almost anything. "Sorry Rox," he said quickly and got back to the task at hand. Charlie just sneered, and muttered something under his breath to Digby that had the pair of them snickering. Twats.

Eggsy spent the weeks Harry was out of commission in one of three states - buzzing with adrenaline, dead to the world through exhaustion, or locked in concentration as he tried to master some new skill or another. He picked up weapons training pretty quick, what he'd learnt in the Marines coming back to him easier than he'd expected, guns sitting neat and steady in his grip as though he'd never put them down. They went through some basic tailoring skills, even though the bloke in the shop said it wasn't strictly necessary at that point, which Eggsy was crap at but enjoyed more than he'd expected. The recruits were tested on any number of things and thinned out as they went - surveillance and tracking (both electronic and through scrying,) methods for keeping psychics out of your head, survival skills, drawing energy from ley lines and power grids alike, disguise, operating various modes of transport, the list went on. It was like the sodding Hunger Games some days. They chose puppies - or rather the puppies chose them, each sniffing about the candidates until they were satisfied and sat at their chosen human's feet - and were told that if they trained them well enough, they could be the most valuable colleagues they could wish for. Eggsy'd been a little embarrassed by the tiny dog that had made a beeline for him, wriggled around happily on his feet, but now he couldn't do without him. He and Roxy shared a small smile every time one of the other recruits was sent home, relieved that they didn't have to say goodbye just yet, but knowing one of them was for the chop soon. 

And in his spare time - not that there was an awful lot of it going - he used the resources available to him through Kingsman to practice his illusions. There was a lot more on it in the library at HQ than Eggsy had ever had access to before, even online, tricks and glamours that Eggsy never would have thought of even attempting. He'd never really thought anything would come of it, they were just something he was good at, cheap tricks to distract himself from all the other bollocks he had to deal with. One particularly successful day, he'd managed to summon up a shimmering flock of orange butterflies to flutter, insubstantial and wavering, around Harry's hospital room. Why butterflies he had no fucking idea, but something told him Harry would have liked it. 

~

Eggsy was a bit jittery when the pair of them got to Harry's house, still remembering the rush of hot, gritty air as the train passed harmlessly over him, the the wide-eyed look Roxy had shot him before they'd parted in Merlin's office. It was just the two of them left now, and he honestly wasn't sure how he felt about it. Although it would be a whopper of a lie to say he wasn't glad to see the back of Charlie boy.  
As soon as they'd stepped through the door, Harry had taken one look at him and told him a drink would help, and led him up to his office. It was a warm room, the orangey red of the walls making it cosy and comfortable, despite the lack of much furniture and the window being open to combat the muggy summer's night. The newspapers pinned all over the walls were a bit weird admittedly, but Eggsy accepted it as just another of Harry's quirks, one more little thing about him that made Eggsy smile when no one was looking. He showed Eggsy the correct way to mix martinis (which turned out to be fucking disgusting, and Eggsy'd drunk some pretty nasty shit in his time) and threw in a couple of drops of actual calm from the small, neat row of brewed emotions in his drinks cabinet. Once he'd knocked back a couple of those, it seemed like a good idea to ask Harry something that'd been bothering him since he could remember, and even more so since Harry had strolled effortlessly back into his life that day outside the police station. 

"What did you whisper," he licked the last trace of martini from his lips, wondered if it was just wishful thinking that Harry's eyes followed his tongue, "when you gave me that medal?"

Harry blinked, looked a little caught out but pleasantly surprised. "You heard that?"

"Well no," Eggsy said, with a slow smile, "that's the problem, innit."

"I activated a charm. For protection," he looked away from Eggsy, swirling the clear dregs in his nearly empty glass, olive untouched. He'd grudgingly admitted to Eggsy that he didn't like the blasted things, but it felt wrong to not put one in all the same. Eggsy had eaten the olives for the both of them. "Each Kingsman medal has the charm worked in as the number's engraved, specific to each recipient, to be activated when they're bestowed. It's stronger, that way."

"Protection?" Eggsy snorted. "I reckon you musta given me a faulty one then." Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true, the blood-warm metal humming slightly at his chest.

Harry looked up at him, lips pressed together in thought as he rolled the stem of his glass lightly between his fingers. He wasn't sure if it was the martini or his dick talking, but Eggsy was suddenly very keen on the idea of kissing away the tightness of Harry's mouth, smoothing Harry's fingers with his own until they stopped their restless movement. Although if he was being honest, those urges were hardly sudden. "I'm aware your childhood was... somewhat bumpy Eggsy, but I'd imagine there's been a time or two when things inexplicably took a turn for the better with no explanation?" The significant look he gave him made it clear it wasn't really a question.

"I - " Eggsy thought about it. Those few times when Dean had gotten really, really mad then suddenly, inexplicably, lost interest. The odd occasion some bloke might've taken offence in a club, pulled a knife or swung back his fist, and missed Eggsy completely, despite the odds. One of Dean's dogs aiming a kick at his stomach or his face, and tripping over their own feet instead. A hundred small things that added up to make a big difference. "Yeah. Yeah I s'pose."

"I thought so," Harry set his empty glass down with a smug little twist of his mouth, rolled his neck from side to side to ease stiff muscles from sitting so long, "we should get to bed. You've had a rather trying day, I would think."

Alright, Eggsy might have been fucking knackered, but who knew when he'd get Harry to himself again like this. He was a busy bloke. Yeah it might've been a tiny bit selfish, but he intended to take advantage of every moment, grab every last second of Harry's company he could, like a child avoiding saying goodnight."It's fine, I'm not - " he stopped, eye catching something dark on Harry's neck as he stretched his tired shoulders. "You've got a tattoo?" said Eggsy with utter delight when he spotted the black lines just visible under Harry's loosened shirt collar.

"Yes," said Harry grudgingly after a moment's pause, looking thoroughly caught out, as though disappointed in himself for letting Eggsy notice. "Merlin's handiwork."

 _"Shut up,"_ Eggsy said, full on grinning. "You let Merlin tattoo you? Are you mental?" 

"He's rather good at it, actually" Harry conceded. "Though it's not something he does lightly."

"What's it of then?" Eggsy's fingers were itching to peel back Harry's shirt collar himself to take a peek. They were itching to do a lot of things, when it came to Harry. "A dragon? Something lame in Chinese? An Anarchy symbol from your misspent youth?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry tilted his chin up to loosen his tie further, lifting his collar carefully away from his neck. There, stark against his skin, were three neat little runes. Oh.

"Spell runes," Eggsy said absently, brain whirring in a thick, martini induced haze in an attempt to translate the meaning. They were one of the many things they'd barely touched upon during their training; he knew little more about them other than that they existed. When drawn by someone who possessed the skill, the runes could enhance chosen traits of the person who bore them. There weren't many recorded cases of them actually working, as they were notoriously difficult to apply correctly, though he had the feeling Harry would end up being an exception, the jammy sod. "Hang on, _Merlin_ can do that?"

"Yes," Harry said, "though he doesn't like to. As far as I know, there's only three other people he's deigned to tattoo, one of those being himself."

"Huh." Eggsy took a moment to let that particular piece of knowledge sink in. "So what's yours for then?"

"Focus," Harry said with obvious reluctance, avoiding his eye. "I... pestered him into it after a mission went rather off course some years ago. I was distracted, and missed something important." The phrase nudged something in Eggsy's memory, something Harry had said to him back in the Prince...

"It was the mission my dad died on, wasn't it," he said quietly.

"Yes."

There were many things he could have said in reply to that, a hundred more questions he could have asked about the spell runes etched onto Harry's neck in the aftermath of his father's death, and why Merlin refused to do it more often. But he didn't. That time, when Harry suggested he go to bed, he didn't try to put him off. 

Even then, it took him bloody ages to fall asleep, curled up tight in Harry's guest bed. It didn't smell like him, only washing powder, and the inside of cupboards. As he lay there, thoughts of his mum and dad and their ruined family guiltily made way for thoughts of crossing the landing and crawling into Harry's bed, pressing his lips to the little black runes on his neck.

~

Harry was dead. Maybe still lying in the car park outside the church even, no breath left in his body and spilt blood congealing on the heated tarmac. There was only so much sodding spell runes could do. The medal around Eggsy's neck had grown noticeably cooler, the temperature dropping from blood-warm to uncomfortably chilly. He refused to acknowledge what that meant, and wore it between his shirt and undershirt instead to dull the chill, rather than against his skin, as he'd always preferred it before. He was dressed to the nines in the suit Harry'd had made for him, navy blue, a Kevlar blend with threads charmed for elusiveness woven right in along the seams. Merlin was silent up in the cockpit of the plane, his mouth tight with grief as he flew them to Valentine's base, half an eye on Roxy's status in the air, cards giving him the same answers over and over. It would have been very easy to slip back into the crushing sadness, the devastation he'd felt when he'd witnessed the moment the bastard had shot Harry at point blank range, but there was shit he needed to get done. There would be time for sadness when it was over. Not that the thought was a particularly enticing one.

As he and Gazelle faced each other down, leaping and swiping at each other like angry cats, Eggsy felt a phantom burst of warmth from the medal around his neck, hot even through his shirt. Obviously imagined, because Harry was gone, and for a moment he was so angry, so fucking angry that yet another thing he loved had been ripped away from him, that the injustice of it all pushed everything else from his head. Anger sharpening his focus, he pulled up every last shred of strength he had left and attempted something he'd always wanted to achieve, but had never dared attempt before - an illusion of himself. The drain on his energy hit him instantly, but he grit his teeth and kept matching her move for move as he mentally prepared to summon up his double. He paused, allowing Gazelle a fraction of a moment to zero in on him, hoping to hell he'd managed to pull it off. She rushed at him, snarling, ready to swipe at him with her blades. Hardly daring to keep his eyes open, Eggsy ducked to the side at the last minute, leaving a perfect copy of himself behind, only the purple tinge to its eyes marking it as manufactured. Gazelle leapt up to slice at the illusion, faltering when her blades met no resistance and Eggsy's double flickered back to nothing. It was only a moment's hesitation, but it was all Eggsy needed. He threw himself at her once more, holding on to the lingering heat of his dad's medal, his medal, _Harry's_ medal, as he clicked his heels together to release the blade in his shoe. 

When it was over and done, villain dead, the world saved and all that shite, the medal was still hot. And Eggsy wanted to cry, punch something and maybe cry some more, because Harry was _fucking dead._ Something must have fucked up with the charm, the warm metal a reminder of the fact that Eggsy would have to do without him, torturous rather than comforting now in it's heat.  
Uncertainty was pretty much the theme in the aftermath of the utter cock up that was 'V-day.' No one knew what the fuck was going on, or what could possibly happen next. As such, Eggsy felt that now was the time to embrace the chaos, grab a bottle of champagne - which he didn't particularly like - and shag a princess until he forgot all about the clusterfuck that was his feelings about Harry. He was dully aware of Merlin saying something in his ear about opening the cell doors, and barely even registered the hiss and creak of the lock mechanisms opening. He wiped an angry tear away as he rounded the corner, and walked straight into - 

"Hello, Eggsy," said Harry.

_Fuck._

~

The world might have been in uproar, but that in no way prepared Eggsy for the sight of Harry Hart, very much alive, stumbling out from one of the cells. For a moment he just stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He'd watched for himself as Valentine had shot Harry at point blank range, there was just no way - Unless... unless he wasn't real. An illusion. One last piece of trickery, just when Eggsy thought they'd won, to hit him where it would hurt most. He looked quickly over Harry's face, his eyes, searching for that telltale purple sheen, slick and iridescent like petrol on a wet road, that would mask the familiar brown and mark him out as false. But there was nothing.  
For a moment, Eggsy wasn't sure whether to cry or give him a slap. And alright, it might've been stupid not to get further clarification on whether it really was Harry or not, but he'd seen enough for the time being. Enough for him to promptly drop the bottle and glasses to the floor and practically throw himself at him, knocking him back a few steps. Harry. Gloriously, impossibly alive _Harry,_ who brought his arms up hesitantly at first, but then tightened hard around Eggsy's shoulders and middle as he hugged him back. He was blessedly familiar, solid and warm with the comforting smell of his woodsy cologne and the star anise and solder that always infused Merlin's office. Eggsy let himself be pulled into Harry's arms as the other man murmured all manner of comforting platitudes, the low timbre of his voice lulling Eggsy down from memories of their last awful confrontation. 

"Fuckin' hell Harry," Eggsy choked into Harry's jacket, his voice muffled by the fabric and thick with imminent tears. He'd always been quick to cry - be they sad, happy, or angry tears - something which had been a bit of a pain in the arse growing up, between Dean and bigger kids on the estate. As such he'd gotten used to holding them back, trying to distract himself until the moment of danger passed, but to do so right then was near impossible. 

"My dear boy," Harry's voice wavered slightly, the unexpected wobble only pushing Eggsy closer to tears. He felt Harry swallow. "You've done me proud, I see."

"You was dead," Eggsy mumbled against his shirt collar, not quite ready to let go, fingers tight in his jacket. "I saw Valentine shoot you in the fucking face. You was dead..." But there he was, and the fierce heat of the medal at Eggsy's chest made a lot more sense.

"It was nothing more than a rather nasty faceful of sedative," said Harry tonelessly, and Eggsy got the distinct impression that 'rather nasty' was putting it lightly for his benefit. "The close impact left it's mark of course, but no lasting damage done."

Eggsy blinked, his eyelashes catching and flickering against the fabric where he'd pressed his face close to Harry's chest. "Shit."

"Quite."

They didn't say anything more for a minute or two, Eggsy just clung onto Harry for dear life as he took in the familiar smell of him, until his breathing evened back out, and he'd reined in his tears for the time being.

"The suit fits then?" Harry asked when Eggsy eventually crawled back out of his arms. 

"Of course," Eggsy said in his best voice, a bit more wobbly than he would've liked, and didn't even feel guilty about the smear of blood from his nose he'd left on Harry's lapel, "it's fucking bespoke I'll have you know. Always fits."

"You look resplendent, dear boy," Harry smiled and touched his chin, "bloody well done."

It wasn't until he smiled, face creasing in happiness, that Eggsy noticed the neat line of stitches above Harry's left eye, and the smell of the healing herbs the same as Jamal's mum used to use. Valentine took good care of the people he kidnapped then, at least. It struck him then just how close everything had come to being irrevocably different. He'd thought Harry was dead, fuck, for a minute he'd thought he was dead himself, and fucked if he was going to lose another chance to say his piece.

"Harry, there's something I - " he gulped, coughed, half aware of Harry's hand hovering, as if to rub his back until it passed. "Shit," he said eyes watering from the coughing. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I - fuck I feel like crap." The adrenaline from the fucking mental day he'd had and running back into his mentor/friend/love of his life who he'd thought was dead was beginning to get low, exertion both mental and physical creeping up on him. 

"Understandable," said Harry carefully, eyes running over him none too subtly, taking stock of every rapidly forming bruise and pulled stitch in the fabric. "You've had quite the time, I assume, since we last spoke." Only a day, give or take, and nothing was the same. Well, with the notable exception that Eggsy still wanted to snog him silly.

"Yeah I guess I - " he shook his head, eyes focused on the careful knot of Harry's tie. "It's not really that, though." 

"Oh?" Harry said, still irritatingly put together. Wasn't fucking fair, when Eggsy felt such a mess. "May I ask what it is, then?"

"Yeah, I um - " Shit. He was fucking exhausted, wanted nothing more than to flop into bed and never move, but if he didn't spit it out now before they got back to business, he'd just keep on finding excuses. "I - I was putting off sayin' this before, because there was never really a good time, yeah? I was going to wait until after I - but then I didn't get it. And I just - fuck, this is hard."

"You needn't say whatever it is, if you'd rather not," said Harry softly.

"Nah it's okay. I want to."

"Alright, my darling."

Whether Harry intentionally called him that, or whether it was just a heat of the moment slip, Eggsy never bothered to ask, but it was what made him suck it up and say it. "I'm a little bit in love with you." He saw Harry freeze in that awful half-moment of silence, his whole body tense in a way far too obvious for a spy. Eggsy would have pointed it out with a smirk and a smart remark, if he hadn't been feeling just as off kilter. "Though to be honest, I guess that's selling it a bit short."

"Well," Harry said eventually, after a silence that had Eggsy about ready to tear his hair out (thoughts of Merlin stopped him) "that's rather fortuitous."

"Oh?" breath caught in his throat, dry and aching, "how's that?"

"Because I'm ridiculously, embarrassingly, wonderfully in love with you, my darling boy," Eggsy managed to make himself look up at Harry, to see him smiling softly, "though to be honest, that's somewhat of an understatement."

"Fucking yes," Eggsy grinned dazedly, "come 'ere then, you magnificent bastard," he curled his hand into Harry's lapel, pulled him down into a kiss that almost had them both falling down to sprawl across the floor. Definitely not the weirdest place Eggsy would have snogged somebody, but no doubt the best so far. 

~

He was pulled out of his Harry-induced haze of lust by someone clearing their throat with the kind of conviction that suggested they'd had to do it more than once. They broke apart just enough so that Eggsy could turn his head to see Merlin, arms folded and eyebrow raised, both amused and unimpressed by their dallying. 

"Very touching I'm sure," he said, "but we have things to take care of, and nobody's doing anything useful because they're too busy watching you two idiots lick at each other's tonsils."

Seeing as his attention had been very thoroughly occupied by Harry for the past few minutes, Eggsy had failed to notice the rest of the cell doors opening, a myriad of celebrities and royalty and other people of note spilling out of their rooms to find out what was going on, the odd mix now watching the pair of them with interest. In fairness, Eggsy thought as he took stock of what exactly his hands were doing, it probably was quite a show after being stuck in a cell for weeks on end. One of his hands was firmly on Harry's arse and the other gripping his shoulder for balance, Harry's palm was spread across Eggsy's thigh to pull him in closer, the both of them bloody and bruised and fine suits in disarray, flushed and breathing hard. Yeah... if he was one of the crowd, he'd be staring too. One member of their audience seemed to be watching very keenly in particular, as they sheepishly began to disentangle themselves.

"Oh, please don't stop on our account," said the very princess that Eggsy had been on his way to shag when Harry had appeared out of fucking nowhere, leaning in the doorway of her cell and looking far more pleased than she should that she'd been forgotten in place of Harry, "it was really quite lovely to watch."

"Yeah well," Eggsy cleared his throat, "things to do and all." He gave Harry one last affectionate pat on the bum - which judging by Harry's raised eyebrow he correctly interpreted as 'we'll be continuing this later' - and they shuffled apart. 

"Glad to see you're in one piece," said Merlin gruffly, giving Harry a 'welcome back from the dead' slap on the back.

"Likewise," Harry grasped Merlin's shoulder for a moment with a flicker of a smile, before they got to work getting everybody back home.

~

All it took was for Eggsy to reach out a hand in Harry's direction, a soft call of his name, voice rough with drowsiness, for Harry to go to him. He moved across the dim sitting room to where Eggsy was sprawled along the sofa, fingers outstretched and waiting. He wrapped them around Harry's wrist and he let himself be gently tugged down to him, fell forward to kiss Eggsy without a moment's hesitation, simple as though they'd done it a thousand times, rather than just the one. 

The medal sat warm and heavy at Eggsy's chest as Harry slipped his shirt over his head, traced his fingers along Eggsy's ribs, collarbone, lips pressing kisses, wavering and barely contained, to his jaw. Their kisses tasted faintly of the tea left half-drunk on the coffee table, warm dry lips, a rasp of stubble where Eggsy'd missed a spot. He pressed up into Harry, desperate, always needing to be closer. Steady hands smoothed over Eggsy's thighs, a gentle rub and a more telling squeeze, before slipping into his trousers. Harry's calloused and clever fingers stroked at the soft skin of his lower belly, his inner thigh, skimmed tauntingly over his cock. Eggsy's own hands wandered quick and indecisive, one gripped Harry's arm, then knee, then shoulder, the other grasping at the cool leather of the arm of the sofa. 

They were breathing the same air, hot and damp between their lips. In the darkness of the sitting room, Harry was made blue and grey and indistinct above him, but the warmth of him, the weight of his body, the feel of him breathing and the warmth of his skin, made him undeniably real. He was solid and alive and safe, and Eggsy had spent so many years caught up in thoughts of his illusions, worked so hard to create copies and manufacture falsities, that he'd forgotten having something real might've even been a possibility. Although he was far from done with illusions, it was about time time he let himself have that something real. And then he was shouting, face pressed to Harry's shoulder and teeth digging in to muffle his cries, ears ringing and their pulses thrumming rapidly together through Harry's constant litany of _gorgeous, love,_ and _perfect._

~

"Harry?" Eggsy spoke to the bedroom ceiling.

"Mm?"

"Do you reckon Merlin would give me one of those tats like you got?"

"I highly doubt it," said Harry with a soft snort, shifting to face Eggsy on the pillow, face falling a little when he noticed Eggsy wasn't smiling. "You're serious. Darling, I did tell you he's only ever deigned to do three in his entire career?"

"Yeah, but I'm special, ain't I?"

"Well there's no denying that," said Harry dryly, and Eggsy prodded him in the ribs under the covers. 

"You'll help me convince him though, yeah?"

"Eggsy, I - " Harry hesitated, sighed heavily. "Do you even know which word you'd want? Because I for one, cannot think of a single quality you are lacking in enough to merit it's permanent enhancement."

Eggsy grinned at him, still dazzled even now by Harry's sincere and unfaltering praise in the moments it caught him unawares. "Flatterer. And don't change the subject, you sod."

"It's not flattery if I mean it," Harry sniffed, hooked an arm around Eggsy to pull him up to lie half on top of him. Eggsy smiled and rubbed their noses together before shuffling further down. "Spell runes aren't something to be worn lightly," he said, and Eggsy could feel the words through his chest, "they change you."

"I'll be alright," he said, kissed the warm skin of Harry's belly, "nothin' could change me as much as you did."

"I never changed you, dear boy," said Harry quietly. "I merely opened your eyes. Lifted one or two of the illusions you're so adept at building up around yourself."

"Mate, it's too early for that kind of talk," he said, face a bit warm and trying to smother his smile. "Does it hurt much?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the change of subject, but let it go. "A little. More... discomfort than pain, I would say."

"That won't matter," Eggsy said, propping his chin up on Harry's chest so he could look at him properly, "if you're there to hold my hand."

"Always, my darling" said Harry, lacing their fingers together on top of the sheets, "always."

**Author's Note:**

> I scrapped and rewrote the end about a week ago, so there may well be more of this 'verse after the author reveal, if you like :)


End file.
